


Earth-Crossed Lovers, pt. 2

by scandalsavage



Series: Earth-Crossed [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Jason Todd, Breeding, Bruce Wayne is Owlman, Cock Cages, Dacryphilia, Dark Dick Grayson, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Earth-3, Humiliation, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Pet Play, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Intersex Omegas, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Objectification, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery, dick grayson is talon, referenced somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: (Probably don't have to read the first part. It's not deep. Shameless smut.)Jason’s breath starts to come faster as he desperately twists his wrists and tries to wriggle his fingers out of their bonds.He can’t use his hands. He can’t use his teeth. He can’t use his legs.Panic gives way to terror as he takes stalk of the condition of the rest of his body. The pulsing bite at his mating gland is bad but not nearly so much as the six, dully aching incisions he finds at the exact locations of the six subdermal micro-trackers embedded in his skin. He can only hope that their removal triggered the alert that he’s in danger.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: Earth-Crossed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152080
Comments: 22
Kudos: 143
Collections: DickJay Week 2021





	Earth-Crossed Lovers, pt. 2

**Author's Note:**

> (title because I haven't been on my game and I used up everything I had in me just to finish the fic.)
> 
> This is a such a mess I actually did read through it for a quick edit but I'm sure I missed loads of mistakes. Please be gentle lol.
> 
> If I missed any tags, please don't hesitate to let me know.

Jason wakes naked, hot, and sticky with sweat and the puddles of slick he’s been lying in for who knows how long. His muscles ache and there is a throbbing between his legs like someone has been inside him. As well as a heaviness that tells him something is _still_ inside him.

He’s still out of it. _Very_ out of it. His heat has always hit him hard. The new birth control he started last year has helped even out his symptoms, make them less intense, but this is as bad as they’ve ever been.

Flashes of Dick’s smooth voice uttering filthy words, Dick’s cold hands petting and prodding at him swirl through his memory like clouds of mist; easy to see, impossible to hold onto.

He tries to sit up and bashes his head against some kind of grated ceiling way, _way_ too low. But his attention is yanked away from examining that by a sharp sting of agony shooting up his legs. 

It’s so painful tears spring to his eyes instantly. He can’t hold back a cry of alarm but it comes out muffled past the muzzle strapped to his face and the thick, protruding shaft of rubber or silicone jutting out from it and resting heavily on his tongue. 

When he tries to sit up again, slower and more deliberately, his legs scream in protest and he collapses. 

The wall he lands against is, like the ceiling, too close and made of the same metal wire grating.

Reaching up to wipe away the tears so that he can see a little clearer in the dim, almost non-existent lighting, Jason realizes his hands are bound. More than that, the fingers seem to be curled into a fist and taped together. They’re covered with something soft and smooth like worn leather, and closed tightly around his wrists with thick metal cuffs that are then attached to each other.

Legs useless, Jason manages to rise up on his hip. Even with his head bent forward, his neck still presses into the top of…

He throws his arms out to one side then the other in a panic. They hit against the sides and rattle the metal.

A cage. Not a cell, he’s in a literal cage. Like a crate for large dogs.

Looking around the room doesn’t produce any useful information or context. There are no windows. The only light comes from a handful of candles on the far side of a large, open, empty space. He can only just make out the shape of an industrial steel door on the edge of the flickering shadows.

Jason’s breath starts to come faster as he desperately twists his wrists and tries to wriggle his fingers out of their bonds. 

He can’t use his hands. He can’t use his teeth. He can’t use his legs.

Panic gives way to terror as he takes stalk of the condition of the rest of his body. The pulsing bite at his mating gland is bad but not nearly so much as the six, dully aching incisions he finds at the exact locations of the six subdermal micro-trackers embedded in his skin. He can only hope that their removal triggered the alert that he’s in danger. 

Even if there is no way, with all this immaculate precision and preparation, that the imposter left them anywhere even remotely useful. 

They would at least check his apartment and find…

Find the scent of sex and…

Dick.

Jason snarls behind the muzzle. They’ll waste time interrogating _their_ Dick, the _wrong_ Dick. Not long, no one will believe Dick capable of something like this, especially after they rule out the various drugs and mind control that could force him out of his right mind.

But how long will all that take? 

Even if they dismiss the evidence on the spot, will it matter?

The loud creak of badly oiled metal snaps Jason’s eyes back to the door. The light from the hall or room beyond blinds him and he flinches away even as it disappears with a slam.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Not-Dick says cheerily. 

There’s a quiet click and several lamps switch on. Dim Eddison bulbs and shades covered with diaphanous red fabric don’t throw out much light, the room stays forebodingly dark, but where the light does touch is cast in a soft rosy hue.

It’s enough for Jason to see that he was wrong. The room is not empty. To his right is a large mattress—not even a proper bed—on the floor, stacked with plush looking pillows and fluffy blankets. 

Warmth flares through him at the sight, reminding him that he is in heat. The omega in him is desperate for the promised comfort of a nest, even if it isn’t _his_ nest.

“As much fun as it was playing with you while you were sleeping, I’m really more interested in your participation,” Not-Dick adds, easily unlatching the door to the crate. Because that’s what Jason is in. A dog crate. With a simple twist-and-slide latch. Not-Dick didn’t even bother to properly lock him in. 

Not-Dick smirks at him with all of real Dick’s sly mischieviousness. It’s not nearly as charming as the real thing, even if it does make Jason’s stomach swoop. 

Heat-drunk traitor.

Jason tries to snarl that he’ll never fucking _participate_ , no matter how deep into the desperation of heat he gets—he’s never met an omega who actually loses their mind during their heat, it’s all bullshit alpha propaganda—but the muzzle makes it come out more like a hissing, spitting cat.

Not-Dick’s grin just gets bigger. “Willing or unwilling. I’m not picky.” 

His hand reaches into the cage and cards through Jason’s hair. When Jason tries to jerk away, pain radiates up his legs and he yelps around the gag. Not-Dick’s fingers twist into his hair and yank. Jason hisses at another shot of agony as he’s dragged out. 

Immediately, he tries to stand, to put some distance between them, to bludgeon the bastard to death with his hands cuffed into fists. Anything.

Not-Dick catches him when he falls, laughing at Jason’s garbled scream, and scoops him up off the floor.

“You’re gonna want to crawl, baby. Couldn’t have you running away from me, could I?”

Jason glares at him the best he can through the new onslaught of tears. What the fuck did the bastard do to him?

As if he can read Jason’s mind, Not-Dick chuckles again and runs his fingers through Jason’s sweaty curls. “When we get home, Alfred will get rid of the dead weight.” He pats at Jason’s useless calf. “I’d have cut your fingers off too, and your tongue, but eventually you _will_ be willing and the thought of not hearing you beg for it, of not being able to order you to finger yourself open for me… well, it was intolerable.”

Jason’s eyes go wide. No. He didn’t. He wouldn’t… 

He thrashes in the other man’s arms. All it gets him is another chuckle as Not-Dick carries him to the mattress. 

“Don’t think that means I won’t take them if I have to,” Not-Dick adds, dropping him into the pile of pillows. “Be a good boy and don’t give me a reason.”

Pain erupts through his battered body and he cries out again, curling in on himself. This can’t be happening. There’s no way Not-Dick… what? Broke his ankles? Cut his achilles tendons? There is just no way. Jason needs his legs in order to do his job. Red Hood is all he has. This is so far outside the realm of possibility that Jason’s head is spinning. 

Though, being in heat and having an interested alpha who smells like someone Jason has wanted since he was 12 years old around certainly isn’t helping.

“I learn from my mistakes,” Not-Dick is saying as he shucks his clothes and crawls up to Jason. “I gave my Jason too much freedom. The moment I mated him, I should have chained him to his nest and never let him out of the room again.”

Strong hands grip his waist and flip him onto his belly. They slide down Jason’s backside, pausing to give his ass a good, stinging smack, before moving down his thighs, his calves, to his ankles. Which he realizes now, are wrapped in gauze.

He jerks when cold fingers dip between the heated, swollen folds of his cunt, suddenly just a little grateful for the muzzle that muffles his gasp. There’s a pressure as the knotted plug is tugged at and pushed back in. He bites back the whine that tries to crawl out of his throat until, finally, the toy is pulled from him with a sickeningly loud squelch. Then the fingers are back, prodding into him.

Jason tries to wriggle and roll away from those stupid dexterous digits and the way they’re driving any thoughts beyond the delicious relief offered in giving his heat exactly what it wants. Especially when the other hand rests on the top of Jason’s backside and both thumbs tug open the puckered rim of his ass. 

Predictably, Not-Dick just huffs an amused sound and grips the back of Jason’s neck, squeezing hard enough for Jason’s vision to blur and limbs go limp. Breath and tension whoosh out of him.

Scruffing might feel pleasant on a physical level, but Jason fucking hates it more than anything.

“There we go,” Not-Dick purrs when Jason sinks, boneless, into the soft surface and doesn’t protest when Not-Dick shifts him back into position. “Don’t struggle, sweetheart. It’ll just make things worse. As pretty as you are when you’re hurt, I don’t want to have to punish you. I’ll take such good care of you this time, if you’ll just let me.”

Jason’s knees are pushed under him, hips raised. All he can manage after the scruffing is a small whimper of pain as his feet are dragged over the mattress. 

When Di— _Not_ -Dick—presses into him, Jason mentally cringes at how easily he takes the alpha’s thick cock. Too easy for the time at Jason’s apartment to have been the only time. 

Again, as if he’s in Jason’s head, Not-Dick groans as he bottoms out with zero resistance and says, breathlessly, “Can’t decide if it’s better when you’re awake or not. You're so pliable and _easy_ when you’re unconscious. A proper slut for it, the way an omega should be. But I like it when you fight me too.”

Not-Dick rolls his hips slowly, grinding his pelvis against Jason’s ass and his cock against Jason’s cervix. Jason whines again and tries to claw at the sheets for purchase.

He wants the muzzle off so he can tell Not-Dick to go fuck himself. But he’s also kind of glad it’s there because… he smells _just like Dick_ and Jason would hate to, in the haze of heat, accidently ask _Dick_ to go harder.

The pace picks up a little and Jason can’t stand feeling like this imposter can see his thoughts so clearly. Hates the way the length splitting him open drags against the hot, needy walls of his cunt so, _so_ perfectly that he could cry from the pleasure. Despises the way that, at any other time, he’d be dry as dust and capable of ignoring the scruff, but now, because of the intensity of this first heat off his birth control, that heavy, full feeling every time Dick—NOT-Dick bottoms out, feels like the most important thing in the world. The _only_ thing in the world. 

Not-Dick’s arm loops around Jason’s waist to toy with where Jason is stretched wide around him; .

“This world is so weird,” Not-Dick rumbles into Jason’s ear, snapping his hips forward harder. “Where I’m from, you’d be pierced all along here—” Jason’s grunt from the sudden thrust turns into a hiss as knuckles drag over the folds of his cunt, “—and here—” a pinch to sensitive little bud that makes Jason gasp, “—and here—” the hand moves up to Jason’s chest and gives a hard twist to one of his nipples. “Whores are required by law, so that no one mistakes them for proper omegas. They’re also branded front and back, right above their cunts and on their asses. My Bruce takes it one step further. Doesn’t like the idea of a slutt being able to hide what they are if they get their hands on some clothes.” 

The hand takes Jason by the chin and turns his face so Not-Dick can look at his face and thumb across his cheekbone. “He marks his whores here, where everyone can see. Forever. No matter what. Where you’re reminded of your place every time you catch sight of your reflection.”

Then Not-Dick’s other hand tugs on Jason’s cock, only his palm doesn’t actually touch Jason’s skin. Even with his attention elsewhere, on the pain and horror and humiliation, Jason doesn’t know how he missed the extra weight, the cool kiss of metal against the extra sensitive skin. 

“Can’t believe they let you keep this. What use does an omega have for a cock anyway? In my universe, most omega’s families have them removed soon after birth. It’s removed later for the few who don’t. Like my Jay. Bruce let him keep it when he was working the brothel. A fun novelty for clients. A nice soft spot to beat when he was bad or just if the alpha wanted to see him cry.” He demonstrates by pulling his arm back and hitting Jason between the legs _hard_. Jason chokes on the moist air inside his muzzle as moisture pricks at his eyes. “You are _so_ pretty when you cry.”

Both hands return to Jason’s waist and grip tightly. Not-Dick’s pace ramps up from the slow roll of hips to fast and brutal, pulling Jason up and down his length instead of thrusting, like the only thing the omega exists for is taking fat alpha prick up his cunt.

“We fixed it though, when he moved into the manor,” Not-Dick says, words clipped and breathy with exertion. 

Jason tries to tune him out. He doesn’t want to hear any of this. It sounds fucking miserable. He thought this world was bad but he’d had no idea how much worse it could get. It’s too late though. The bastard is in his head. 

“Couldn’t allow _my_ mate to be such a freak. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of all that when I get you home. You were a whore here too, so we’ll get you all properly marked up. Cut off all the useless bits. You’ll wake up smooth as a girl, the way you should be, and a few pounds lighter without your legs. Well, the lower half anyway. Don’t want you running away from me but I can’t resist the thought of you crawling around on all fours like a puppy. Oh!—”

The imposter’s pace stutters. Jason can feel the knot swelling at the base, tugging at the thin edge of his opening. 

Mustering what little reserves of energy he has left, Jason tries to pull away. He doesn’t want this fucker to knot him; doesn’t want any of the horrifying things mentioned so casually. But the alpha’s hold on him is unyielding. He doesn’t even manage an inch. 

Not-Dick pushes a thumb past the tight, furled rim of Jason’s ass and the omega makes a surprised, indignant squawk. 

“May-maybe I’ll get you a tail. A collar and leash. Make you sit quietly on the floor by my side at dinner like the dumb little bitch you are, feed you table scraps while the rest of us have a real conversations. Or from bowls on the floor, with your ass in the air, ready— _desperate—_ to be used by your masters. Teach you how to beg for my “bone”. _Oh fuck!_ ”

Even trying to focus on not filling the muzzle with vomit, Jason doesn’t miss the wide, bulbous knot stuffed inside him. He shouts, garbled by the hunk of rubber between his teeth, as the sharp stabbing sensation of Not-Dick once again breaching his cervix, or the hot flood of come that spills into his womb in thick spurts. 

Smug, satisfied alpha scent— _Dick’s_ alpha scent—pours into the room. It washes over Jason, horribly comforting in its familiarity and the way it sinks into Jason’s heat-addled mind, soothing him. He doesn’t bother trying to roll away when the alpha lowers them onto their sides. Doesn’t so much as flinch when Dick’s hand starts stroking his belly. Nor when teeth press against the still sore bite on his mating gland and dig in again.

“My omega,” Dick… no, not Dick… just… just smells like Dick... murmurs—sounds like Dick—lapping at the freshly opened wound. It settles Jason, even as he struggles to hold on to the fact that this is _not_ Dick. 

The hand moves up to play with Jason’s nipples. “Can’t wait to watch you grow fat with my pups. See your tits get plump and heavy with milk. Can’t wait to taste you.”

Jason shudders. He… he wants Dick to do all that. But this… this isn’t Dick...

“I’ve almost figured out how to get home. It won’t be long now. Everyone will be so excited to see you.”

That cuts through the fog of pheromones and hormones. It makes Jason stiffen and fear claw at his insides. 

No. That’s not happening. Hopefully, Bruce and Dick—the real Dick—and the others can find him before then.

Not-Dick chuckles. “They won’t find you in time, baby. Trust me. I’m _very_ good at staying hidden. And that’s assuming they even bother to look.”

A sob shudders through Jason’s exhausted body.

He tries to stamp out the doubt that blooms from those words. 

They’re looking. They’ll find him. 

They have to.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler, they don't make it in time.


End file.
